A Maze of Murders (8 page)

‘He and Señor Lewis were friends.'

‘Hardly of consequence in the present context.'

‘Señor Sheard's crash occurred on the road between Port Llueso and Torret.'

‘So?'

‘It is one of the two routes one would take to reach here.'

‘You are trying to say he may have been coming here?'

‘It seems a possibility.'

‘Only by stretching the laws of possibilities to breaking point. Tell me, do you pursue your logic to its logical conclusion? Is every person who was on that road, and on the alternative one, to be considered a potential visitor to Son Preda?'

‘Only if that person had a reason for meeting you.'

‘I am intrigued. What are you now going to suggest was Sheard's reason for meeting me, a complete stranger?'

‘I'm not certain. But it may have had a connection with the money you withdrew.'

‘Ah, yes! Your concern just before my wife came in.' Clough turned to Vera. ‘The inspector has been showing considerable interest in our financial affairs, to the extent of persuading the bank to divulge details of our account. It seems my withdrawal of a million pesetas a fortnight ago troubles him. From his inability to judge a wife's capacity to spend, it's my guess he's not married.' He turned back. ‘Are you, in fact, married?'

‘No, señor.'

‘Your incomprehension becomes comprehensible. I will explain. Some little time ago, we were invited to stay in the near future with friends for whom form is all-important. My wife normally dresses without fuss or frills, but there are occasions when she has to accept the necessity of doing otherwise and this will be one such. So that is why I have had to rediscover the fact that a couple of dresses can cost as much as a man's entire wardrobe.'

Alvarez asked her: ‘You have bought some dresses on the island, señora?'

She looked to her husband.

He said: ‘Whenever my wife needs something special to wear, she has it made by a dressmaker in England.'

‘Are you saying that the million pesetas was needed to pay this dressmaker?'

‘Indeed.'

‘Even though she works in England and one would expect her to be paid in pounds?'

‘Correct again.'

‘Would you be kind enough to show me her receipt.' Alvarez did not miss the sudden look of consternation on Vera's face.

Clough showed no such concern. ‘Your justification for the request?'

‘The receipt would confirm what you've just told me.'

‘You need confirmation?'

‘Regretfully, in my job I have to seek confirmation of everything I am told.'

‘Seek but, presumably, do not always find?'

‘May I see the receipt?'

‘I have to disappoint you.'

‘Why?'

‘Basically, because the dressmaker is a talented woman of much common sense – the two, of course, do not always go together.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘She is employed by one of the larger London ateliers and it is a condition of her employment that she works for no one else. Therefore, she never gives a receipt for work done on the side, since this could incriminate her and lead to her dismissal. Further, it was she who suggested she delivered the dresses here, not London, so that she could be paid in pesetas. I imagine she is buying a property, but naturally didn't ask. We were delighted to agree. It saved my wife making a journey to the UK.'

‘What is her name and address?'

Clough smiled. ‘Give those and she runs the risk of having her moonlighting identified by the Inland Revenue, which would be small thanks for all her care. No, Inspector, I will not give you those details. Were I to do so and as a direct consequence she was in trouble and unable to carry out further commissions for my wife, I should never be forgiven by either party.'

Alvarez felt a certain admiration for the other. He could not have expected to be questioned; the questions could well have caused a sense of panic; yet he had thought up, on the spur of the moment, answers that were just this side of feasible and offered a valid reason for not providing corroborative evidence. It was not every man who was that quick of thought.

‘Have you any more questions?'

‘I don't think so, señor.'

‘Then we can relax and I'll get you another drink.'

Alvarez saw no reason to refuse.

CHAPTER 10

Alvarez was awoken by Dolores's call. He stared up at the bedroom ceiling and decided that after winning the lottery, he'd pay someone to wake him up at the end of every siesta so that he could enjoy the luxury of returning to sleep.

‘Are you up, Enrique?'

He slowly and reluctantly swivelled round, put his bare feet on the floor, and rested. Sweat trickled down his chest.

‘Hurry up. Your coffee's getting cold.'

She was forever fussing. Perhaps somewhere in her ancestry there was a Galician influence. He stood. By ill chance he was standing at right angles to the small mirror on the chest of drawers and could see his stomach. Another few centimetres and he would be forced to accept the description, fat. He really must, he decided resolutely, go on a diet.

Dolores should not have offered him a second slice of almond cake. After all, it would have hurt her feelings to refuse … He gathered up the few crumbs left on the plate, pressed them together between thumb and forefinger, put them in his mouth and savoured their flavour …

‘You're going to be really late,' she said.

He looked up at the electric clock on the wall and was surprised to note that the time was almost six. ‘Is it easy to spend a million pesetas on two frocks?'

‘Madness, more like!'

‘Sure. But are there people who spend that much?'

‘I've read there are some who waste even more to look ridiculous.'

Was Vera Clough one such person? From what he'd seen of her, he doubted that whatever the occasion she would dress ostentatiously, yet accepted that it was dangerous on so brief an acquaintance to make any judgement, let alone one that only a woman could correctly make. Nevertheless, one developed an instinct about a case and his said the story of the dresses was nonsense … Vera Clough had been shocked by the news of Lewis's death, but not by Sheard's – obviously, people were far more concerned over the death of someone known than someone unknown to them … Would she have accepted from her husband the need to deny any meeting with Lewis unless there was very good reason for the denial? If she accepted the need, she must have a good idea of what her husband was doing …

‘Are you all right?' Dolores asked.

He looked up to see her standing at the head of the table and regarding him intently. ‘Why d'you ask?'

‘You're very late for work, yet you just sit there and stare into space.'

‘I'm trying to decide whether the latest case I'm on is connected with drugs.'

She began to fidget with the wooden spoon that was on the table. ‘Ana's eldest has been stealing money from the family. When she found this out and asked him why, he told her he was on drugs. Yet no one could have been brought up in a more loving family. Why? Why should he do such a terrible thing?'

‘Home life doesn't seem to carry the weight it used to. The experts talk about peer pressure, the excitement of taking risks and breaking the law.'

‘Experts are idiots! It's because the government changed the law and decriminalized drugs.'

‘Governments are bigger idiots than experts.'

‘It was different in General Franco's time.'

‘Many things were different.'

‘When I hear about Ana's eldest, I think of Juan and Isabel.'

‘They'll never take to drugs.'

‘Why not, if a loving home is no guarantee? Why should they listen to us rather than some piece of shit who wants to see them hooked?' The strength of her fears was evidenced by her language; normally, she never swore.

‘They are sensible.'

‘And that is enough?'

‘With the help of God.'

‘Does He not permit there to be such terrible drugs? Does He not permit the old to tempt the young? So why should He help?'

‘Why not ask the priest?' he said, ducking an answer.

‘How can he understand the fears of a mother when he does not know what it is to have children?'

‘He'll have been taught to give advice on matters he cannot experience.'

‘And would you go to a chemist to be told how to build a house?'

Again, he did not try to answer.

‘You must know who are the local bastards – why don't you arrest them?'

‘I need evidence and there's never enough to catch the people who really matter,' he said sadly. It needed a cleverer man than he to understand why the law allowed itself to be used by criminals to evade justice.

‘There were no drugs before the foreigners came. There was no pornography. You left the house unlocked when you went out. Families stayed together and the young supported the old. The foreigners should never have been allowed here.'

‘Then you would be cooking on charcoal.'

‘A small price to pay.'

Since her cooking would still be superb, she was probably correct.

*   *   *

Alvarez considered the problem. The rules were clear. Any request for information to a foreign police force, normally passed through Interpol, had to be approved by someone of the rank of comisario or higher. To reach the rank of comisario, a man had to have ambition; an ambitious man did not make the mistake of helping a colleague if to do so carried the slightest element of risk. Yet if he didn't ask one of the comisarios to endorse the request, that left only Salas. And there could be no doubt as to how he would react to the suggestion … Of course, if the request to the English police for information, both formal and informal, concerning Lawrence Clough and Neil Lewis, appeared to have the superior chief's authority and if it asked that such information be sent direct to Llueso, why should Salas ever have cause to object? A man did not bemoan a lost lamb until he knew he had lost it.

*   *   *

He parked, locked the car, walked the short distance to the Hotel Alhambra. In the foyer, suitcases and hold-alls were piled high, men and women were milling about the reception desk, and children were racing, shouting, and screaming. A typical change-over day. The two harassed clerks ignored him until he leaned across the reception desk and announced himself.

‘Can't it wait?' asked the older plaintively.

‘I'm afraid not.'

‘Twenty bodies arriving when only eighteen were expected and only eighteen beds vacated. Where am I to put the extra two?'

A woman with a sharply featured face and tight, thin mouth pushed her way past Alvarez. She said stridently: ‘All right, when are you going to do something instead of being pathetic?'

The elder receptionist spoke in a placatory voice. ‘Señora, we are trying…'

‘Very trying! I've been waiting for hours and all you've done is chat to him.' She indicated Alvarez with an indignant jerk of her head.

‘But I have to speak to him, señora…'

‘You find me and my husband a room quick sharp or I'm suing the company in England.'

‘Please wait one little moment…'

‘Wait? That's all this bloody place is good for.'

Alvarez said in English: ‘We have a saying, señora. The man who runs often arrives after the man who walks.'

‘You speak a little English, do you? Well I'm telling you, there's not much running done on this island, that's for sure. No one's doing anything about finding a bedroom for me and my husband. Booked it three months ago. Three months! And then they try to say there ain't a bedroom free. If they expect us to sleep on the sand, they've got another bloody great think coming their way, that's for sure!'

The elder receptionist leaned forward. ‘Señora, I assure you that you will not have to wait for much longer.'

‘Maybe I won't if you stop chatting to this bloke and do your job.'

‘But it is a police matter, Señor Alvarez is a detective.'

The woman studied Alvarez. Her expression made it clear that he did not look like one.

‘Do you get many like this?' Alvarez asked in Mallorquin.

‘Always some. And when they get tight, they're even worse … Tell me quickly what you want.'

‘Is Señorita Fenn or Señorita Glass in the hotel?'

The receptionist checked. ‘Their key isn't hanging up so I guess at least one of them's around.'

‘What's the room number?'

‘Sixteen. First floor, turn right from the lift.'

Alvarez eased his way past the glowering woman and crossed to the lift. As he entered, three boys rushed in, deafened him with a ghetto blaster, shouted, ‘Hey, old man, hit the tit for take-off,' pressed the button for the fourth floor, then fooled around. After reaching the fourth floor, they stomped their way out of the lift. He was able to descend to the first floor.

He knocked on the door of room 16 and there was a call from inside to enter. The two single beds filled the small room; Kirsty, wearing a bikini, was lying on the right-hand one. She sat up. ‘Have you learned something?'

‘Concerning Señor Lewis? I regret not.'

‘Oh! I've been so hoping…'

She was genuinely concerned, not because convention demanded this.

‘Is Señorita Fenn in the hotel?'

‘No, she's out with … with a friend.' She noticed his expression. ‘She was so upset she needed taking out of herself.'

‘Señorita, would you mind if I sat?' He settled on the other bed since there was no chair. ‘I fear I have more bad news for you.'

‘Oh, God!'

‘Late yesterday evening, Señor Sheard was riding his Vespa when he had a serious crash. Sadly, he died from his injuries.'